Inner Conflict in Queer Romance: Don’t Kill Your Darlings — Just Hurt Them a Bit
There’s something inherently satisfying about watching a character going through the crucible of change over the course of 300–400 pages. Readers expect that change to happen, obviously. It’s why they picked up your book. Inner conflict drives the heart of the story, even in genres like mystery, thriller, and suspense, which tend to be plot centered.
Romance novels, though, center around clueless protagonists confident they’re not in love with each other. The inner conflict is embedded in that cluelessness. Of course, “bad guys” don’t exist in romance. The protagonists are the antagonists. Even better, they’re their own worst enemies.
I’ve previously mentioned how vital it is to create an antagonist who meets your protagonist where they are. Thus, internal conflict is where the two intertwine in your queer romance. This type of conflict centers around what the character falsely believes about themself or the world. It colors every thought, every action, and every interaction. Author Jerry B. Jenkins defines internal conflict as
the mental, spiritual, or emotional battle a character faces that makes [them] relatable, giving [them] that humanity that can endear [them] to readers.
Options for inner conflict abound. Indeed, there’s little better in romance than watching a character fighting to convince themself that they don’t have feelings for the other person. That quest to their Happy Ending has to be fraught with the mental, spiritual, or emotional obstacles keeping them from that Happy Ending.
In light of this, let’s go over three of the most typical inner conflict tropes as they can apply to queer romance.
Photo by Kristina Tripkovic on Unsplash
Inner Conflict Option #1: Identity
In her book Romancing the Beat: Story Structure for Romance Novels, Gwen Hayes makes clear that your protagonists are “hole-hearted” at the start of the story (p. 9). By this, she means that characters are incomplete on the inside. They’re missing something internally, even if their external life is postcard-perfect.
Inner conflict creates that hole. Internal conflict threatens who they are at their core. As such, they do almost anything to protect themselves. They don’t have a choice but to pick between fight, flight, or freeze. In this situation, you’ve challenged their sense of self.
Say your character’s identity is nearly inseparable from their career. They’ve spent years—if not decades—climbing the ladder, or perfecting their skill set, or even just trying to stay employed. When the second protagonist enters the picture and shows them what their life could look like away from work?
That main protagonist burns rubber heading the other way. Maybe they go hide in the mountains for six months. Maybe they ghost the second protagonist for a while, until they can get their emotional equilibrium back.
These aren’t healthy coping mechanisms in the least, naturally. Look at your story’s prior events, though. Your character’s inner conflict is about whether or not to avoid triggering their fears. And their biggest fear? They’ve thought something about themselves for so long, they’re terrified to see what life would be like on the other side of that.
A Caveat [Read: A Warning]
You might be familiar with the “[insert queer identity]-awakening” or “[queer-identity]-for-you” character trope. Both are popping up in queer fiction more and more these days, primarily from non-queer authors. Character A spent their entire life believing they were 100-percent Hetero. Yet along comes Character B, and all of a sudden, Character A has Questions™️.
I’m not going to lie: It objectifies the queer experience as something that one wakes up to one day and just “realizes.”
Inner conflicts that center around identity can indeed have a character (or more) who thinks one thing about themselves over the course of the story before realizing that one thing is untrue. Yet those kinds of false beliefs are best used when not focused on the character’s queer identity as a whole.
Inner Conflict Option #2: Self-Confidence
Like identity, self-confidence is inextricably linked to how a person sees themself. Using this option as your story’s internal conflict gives readers direct insight into your characters’ emotions. Actions and reactions are based off an emotion the character can’t hide. Your protagonist doesn’t believe they deserve to be happy, let alone find a partner who accepts them completely, flaws and all. The status quo of their life is that way for a reason. They protect, at all costs, what little confidence they do have.
They overcompensate. For example, everyone thinks your character has their life together. Your character is the smooth talker, the suave fashionista, or the social media influencer with the perfectly curated online image. In reality, most days, their inner conflict is that they struggle to even get out of bed or leave their house. Abi Wurdeman says, “The battle that rages inside your character’s soul is the one that forces them to make tough choices and ultimately change.”
A second option is avoidance. Risk aversion doesn’t just apply to business decisions. Going back to Hayes’ concept of “hole-hearted,” the idea of being emotionally vulnerable is not in this character’s plans. They show the world exactly who they want the world to see them as when they want to be seen.
Finally, sometimes the most painful decision to see characters make is self-sabotage. They see themselves as worth less than those around them. I use two words on purpose there. Notwithstanding the outward facade a protagonist may show the world, inside? They just don’t believe in themselves the way everyone else does.
Ever-Present Relationship Conflict
Relationship conflicts are where you get the best tropes. Grumpy/sunshine, adversaries-to-lovers, even sports star/staff physical therapist or coach/fan. When queer romance authors use this particular inner conflict, the protagonists clash over personalities. They butt heads because as much as they may like each other (see Clueless Idiots in Love trope), they just cannot imagine compromising who they are, at least not at that point.
Romance is about the relationship. There’s no two ways about it. Indeed, Becca Puglisi says it best:
Relationship friction just screams to be resolved because it’s personal and in the character’s face—especially when it involves someone who can’t or won’t be avoided.
Relationship conflicts are honestly why slow burns and hurt/comfort are easily two of my favorite queer romance tropes. Protagonists only have two choices. Pack it up and go about their merry way, able to keep their inner self and heart protected. Or, compromise and expand not only their external world, but grow into the person and partner they never knew they could be.
Pulling off this conflict over the course of however many pages your novel ends up takes focus. You have to know your characters’ weaknesses and vulnerabilities in such a way that it becomes effortless to put it on the page. After all, Becca Puglisi also notes, “Internal conflict is [. . .] critical for helping the character acknowledge the habits that are holding them back.”
Photo by Marc-Olivier Jodoin on Unsplash
To Sum It All Up
There’s little better in a queer romance than a character fighting with themself to keep from changing. That inner conflict is why readers stay up until three in the morning flipping page after page. We don’t need sleep. We need answers.
It’s vital to remember that external conflicts only exist in romance to force characters to confront their inner demons. Those internal conflicts keep them from their Happy Ending. Find the darkest corners of their mind, kick open that chest full of secrets, and lay them out where your protagonist can’t avoid them.
Only after the secrets and demons have come out to play does the real fun start. Your story is about your characters. They’re who the conflict comes from. They’re who the conflict has to go through. Most importantly, they’re who your readers need to see overcome that conflict.
Reflecting On Your Story One Word At A Time!
